


Settle

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26611108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Two old men in a house.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	Settle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The recipe is, at first, original—taught to Spock by Jim and Jim by his mother, but left to his own devices, Spock can’t help a few _slight_ alterations. He boils water and steams milk—not the synthesized kind modeled after Terran cows, but naturally produced from rice, harvested in a local town not far from their cabin. Spock crushes up leaves from the garden while he waits for the liquid to warm. Some of the herbs are for taste, other simply vitamins— _someone_ needs to look out for Jim’s diet, and Dr. McCoy isn’t even on the same planet at the moment. The water boils first, and Spock uses it to strain the powdered leaves. 

Next comes the cocoa—that part still authentic, for Jim wouldn’t have it any other way. The milk goes over top of it, and Spock swirls it together with a long spoon. He prepares a second cup for himself, containing all the same things save the cocoa. It has just a little too much _taste_ for him. Jim is a strong enough flavour as it is, always lingering on Spock’s tongue long after meals.

Finished, Spock lifts both cups and carries them around the counter, out into the living room, where he left his star-struck husband waiting. Jim’s sitting in the same place he was ten minute’s ago, wedged up against the sofa’s arm, the old-fashioned book still open in his lap, gaze lost on the glass door that leads out onto the patio. They’re in a flat enough province to see straight out into the sky. When Spock circles around the couch, he can see the glittering constellations reflected in Jim’s pupils. 

“Thinking of the Enterprise will not bring it back any faster,” Spock notes, and he doesn’t have to prod at the bond between them to know that he’s right. He’s known Jim for years—decades—and always knows just what he’s thinking. His ship is the most common subject. 

Without turning to meet Spock, Jim murmurs, “Is this what it’ll be like to retire?”

A heavy sigh rumbles out of Spock’s chest. He has plenty of years of active duty left in him, but his human partner’s another story—Jim’s starting to get wrinkles across his brow and eyes. His hair has lost some of the luster it had in his early days, and his recklessness and rogue tendencies have somewhat dulled, but his passion’s never waned. He’s a _captain_ through and through, and Spock isn’t looking forward to the day when Starfleet forces him behind a desk.

Jim would wither and die there. But perhaps he could thrive in the Vulcan desert, at Spock’s side—the only place he could ever belong as much as on the bridge of the Enterprise. 

Taking a seat next to Jim on the faded cushions, Spock hands over the hot cocoa and asks, “Would that truly be so bad?”

Jim quirks a wry grin. He glances to Spock, and his expression says it all—he knows what Spock really means. And of course that was never a question—of course Spock would always factor in to Jim’s future. They’re captain and first officer no matter where they are—Spock can no longer imagine serving under any other. 

Still, Jim admits, “Even short shore-leaves were painful, once. But... I suppose I am slowing down enough to enjoy some of this.”

Spock pointedly repeats, “ _Some_.” Jim’s grin grows a little wider, his free hand falling to Spock’s thigh, and Spock doesn’t need the little squeeze he gets to know that he’s loved. He feels that every day, whenever their hands brush in their turbolift or Jim sidles up to him in bed. Spock used to find such blatant human contact painful, but that was before he and Jim melded so many times that Jim’s brilliant spirit became an ever-present warmth inside Spock’s very being. 

Jim adds, “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

It isn’t technically hot chocolate. But Spock doesn’t offer a correction. Instead, he settles back and sips, waiting for his t’hy’la to pick up the book and carry on with their next chapter.


End file.
